


Pleasant Company

by Besin



Series: World Domination and Other Occupations [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Coercion, Debatable Dub-Con, M/M, Mutant!Peter, Peter is on the run, X-Men AU - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 09:36:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3322598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Besin/pseuds/Besin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Peter was a child, he realized he had the ability to tell people what to do. To make them see things that weren’t there and remember things that didn’t happen. And when he grew older he used it to run away from the people who had figured out what he was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pleasant Company

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for Dub-Con. See end notes for details.

When Peter was a child, he realized he had the ability to tell people what to do. To make them see things that weren’t there and remember things that didn’t happen. And when he grew older he used it to run away from the people who had figured out what he was.

…

It’s raining and cold when Peter meets him – his trick for the night. A boy sitting outside a gay bar, twirling his keys around his fingers and staring up at the bright neon lights of Jungle.

Peter sidles up to him with a grin. “Waiting for someone?” he asks.

The boy jumps, glancing away from the sign with wide eyes and an even wider mouth. “I-” His jaw snaps shut, and his eyes narrow suspiciously. “What do you want?”

“Company,” the man deadpans in reply. Then, voice lowering, he whispers, “You want to keep me company.”

The boy blinks, and in an instant a wide, stupid grin takes over his face. “Really?” he manages around a squeak. “I, uh – cool. That’s cool.”

It doesn’t take long to convince the boy to drive them to a hotel – to get a night and drag him up the floors in an elevator. And when they reach the room, his company seems all too eager to begin.

“Come on,” Stiles – and that’s his name; Stiles – whispers, slotting a hand between Peter’s arm and his waist, rubbing circles into the skin there. “Let’s head to bed.”

The man glances to the bed, then to the boy behind him. “You get ready,” he tells him quietly. “I’ll be there in a second.”

Smiling coyly, the boy pulls his hand away with a sly grin. His shoes are almost too loud against the carpet as he steps toward the wide hotel bed. “Don’t take too long,” he drawls, turning to fall onto the bed, toeing off his shoes and socks.

“I won’t,” Peter promises. Stepping over to the bathroom, he closes the door behind him. He’s quick to pull his shirt over his head, observing the ripple of skin just beneath his chest, running down the right side of his stomach. It still bleeds sluggishly, fluids trickling down to stain the hem of his pants. Tossing the shirt in the bath, he turns the water on before reaching beneath the counter to retrieve a small first aid kit.

Most of the band-aids are gone, but there’s an antibacterial wipe that stings like a motherfucker and an untouched length of medical tape. He uses this to secure a bandage to the wound, practically smothering it in neosporin. Finally, with this secure, he lifts his shirt from the filthy water and wrings it out. It’s tossed over the curtain rod with a grimace and left to dry as he drains the tub and eases the bathroom door open.

Clearing his throat, Peter closes his eyes as he gently insists, “I’m coming out.” The air hums with the insistence, even as he remains in the bathroom, and he feels strength draining from his limbs as it fills his voice.

“Hey,” Stiles says from the other room, greeting a nonexistent man as he approaches the bed. “You weren’t very long.”

Peter peeks around the door, and finds the boy sitting up in bed, staring over at the wall happily. “I climb on to the bed and kiss you,” he whispers. “You like it at lot.” He watches as Stiles suddenly arches, gasping lightly, lips puckering. It’s as strange as all the others; watching the boy react so strongly to nothing. Turning away, the man grimaces. “Fall asleep.”

On the bed there is a thump.

Stepping fully from the bathroom, Peter settles onto the bed with a sigh. Leaning closer, he whispers, “You dream that you’re having sex with me in this room. It’s fantastic and fun, and you will think it to be a memory when you wake. You will not wake until I tell you.” He watches the boy carefully as he pulls away, then slides them beneath the covers, settling as far from the teen as he can manage before slipping off to sleep.

…

Peter wakes as he always does; well rested and alert. The hotel walls stare down at him as if they know him, their wallpaper bright and floral, and he rolls out of bed to make his way to the bathroom – away from their eyes. He doesn’t take long. Splashes water on his face, showers, and puts on his still damp shirt.

He steps out into the room. Stares at the boy for a bit. Considers leaving him there, laying on the bed in a coma for eternity. But instead he pulls the covers down and removes the boy’s clothes. Pale skin splattered with moles is revealed, but Peter doesn't linger. The covers are back as soon as Stiles’ boxers are discarded onto the floor, falling into a pile with the others.

“You will wake in ten seconds,” he commands. You will see me leave and find yourself sore and sticky with bodily fluids. You will want to shower before checking out and driving home. You will remember this night vaguely, but fondly, and will be unable to recall my face.” Pulling back, the man turns on his heel and counts slowly to ten. At nine he pulls open the door. On ten, steps through it.

Peter doesn’t expect the door to ease open, arms to wind around his waist, and lips to find his neck with startling accuracy. “You’re really good at that,” the boy whispers in his ear, and Peter’s about to reply when he feels a small prick against his neck.

The man jerks away, hand going up to his neck to grab at the skin as his entire body goes numb. “What-?” he manages before his knees go weak and he falls to the floor.

“Honestly,” Stiles tells him smugly. “Don’t you screen for government agents? Peter Hale, ‘Incubus,’ taken down by an intern. Base is going to freak.”

“What have you done?”

“Nothing much,” the boy murmurs, leaning forward to wave a small dart in front of Peter’s eyes. “It’s just some Venom from Kanima – one of our research subjects.” He’s standing in the hall, uncaring of his nudity. Stepping back into the room, he returns with a cell phone and a smug grin. “Hey Boyd, I need a pick up,” he mutters. “Yeah, mission complete.”

**Author's Note:**

> Peter uses powers to convince Stiles to have sex with him, then plants memories of fake sexual events. No sex actually occurs.


End file.
